Miss. Joann dies

My mother-in-law, Joann Castille Theriot just passed away on her 78th birthday.

She was a devoted wife, sibling, mother & grandmother. She was a natural "master chef"that loved having her family gather in her pristine home weekly for meals that taste like no other cajun cuisine. She was a devout Catholic & practiced her faith to the fullest & loved her hour duty of adoration. She was a tall beautiful well manicured woman who carried herself very well. She practiced good nutrition & enjoyed playing a game of Bourrè with her friends weekly. She suffered a stroke that debilitated her from being ambulatory. Her husband, Mr. Allie, was her sole caretaker for the last 8 yrs at her side using a "Hoyer-lift" as her only mode of transportation in and out of bed. She was enjoyed looking out of her window watching the world go by. She loved to laugh & I loved to pick on her about her rules & obsessive compulsive cleaning & organizing. I have many wonderful memories of her visits & lectures. I loved her very much & she will be greatly missed. I'm blessed to have had such a loving & caring mother-in-law in my life.

I'm still searching for a better seafood gumbo, roast/pork gravy, veg soup or chicken pie.

RIP Miss. Joann.

Uncle Fat and his imaginary wife and children

In the 1940's My great uncle "Fat" had an imaginary wife & 2 kids, a boy & a girl with names cuz he was a bachelor at 50 & got tired of ppl asking him when he was going to get married.

They tell me he had a great sense of humor.

Uncle Fat stories...1930's

My dad used to tell me "Uncle Fat stories......

(Now remember they were poor share croppers for The Walet's in Loreauville & they were living in a small cajun house near Choopic on the way to Lake Dauterive in back of where Oscar Oubre & them lived. It was the 1930's & he & uncle Fat were about 7 & 10 yrs old running after each other in the house & kitchen @ outside and the ole grandma Mrs. Hom...er (pronounced O marr) Dugas had a huge gumbo on the stove cooking & uncle Fat spit across the top of the pot at my daddy & ...............
It fell in the pot.
No one but them saw it.

Daddy said they couldn't tell. It would have ruined the appetites of the whole family & they couldn't see throwing the whole pot away because it was all they had to eat & Mrs. Homer had cooked it all day with yard hens she had killed & plucked.

He would tell us these elaborate stories about being poor & survival.

Stories told to me by my dad about his uncle, "Fat" .....Bar-room fights in 1930's

Daddy said Uncle Fat was tall, funny but not too handsome. He had a hump on his back. Said Uncle Fat could dance & all the girls wanted to dance with him at the dance @ this made their boyfriends & husbands mad.
Anyway Uncle Fat would always go to town to drink beer @ dance on the weekends & he would end up fighting every now & then. Daddy said Uncle Fat would have these stories about getting t...he last punch & running faster, etc.

Daddy said he would wait to hear about the dances & fights when Uncle Fat would return after a long walk home from town to where they lived. Daddy said he never saw a scratch on Uncle Fat so he figured he was winning these fights & running home without a scratch until one night Uncle Fat didn't come home. They had to get the horse & buggy & go to town near the dawn hour to look for him. Daddy said he apparently lost this fight cuz he had scratches all over and looked a mess. They found him sleeping in the grass near the bar. When they realized he was alive & just a little bruised they were so happy.

He said they asked Uncle Fat (in a taunting way) "So Fat, is there a place on your body that don't have scratches?

Uncle Fat answered, "Only under my feet"!

Ava & Ana, my great nieces

Erica & Taylor, my nephew

Adam & Jacquie, my niece

Kandis & Kassidy, my great nieces

My nephew, Braden

My niece, Alicia

My niece, Nadine & Mico, Ana & Ava

My niece, Leila

My mom in her favorite color.

My brother-in-law, Larry and Pat

My sister, Pat

My sister, Willette & Ken

Struggling in my fifties

I'll be 51 in a couple of weeks and I find the "it ain't that big a deal" is even more of my overall theme than it has been for ten years now. If I had to pin point a major turning points in my life, it was my divorce then the death of my parents almost a decade later.

You know everyone, well more than half now, get divorced but I want to talk about what that transaction did to me... for the sake of my own validation as well as for those of you that may have felt the same, maybe more, maybe less.  I totally understand that many people do well during and after a divorce and then there are some that are bitter, depressed and resentful.

It was a long, very long journey for me.  It was horrible, then numbing then understandable.  I know we all know about the phases of grief and I agree with the denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance but no matter what, most of the time its just "fonky". 

I'm one to talk but not to talk negatively about anyone especially the father of my children.  I would rather talk about "change" which is a great way to think about divorce.  I want to explain what I know and that is how change affected me.  Life without my partner and life without my parents.

I am a sucker for new things, new paths, new people, new experiences, new adventures and etc, but change when you really didn't want it or you know it is inevitable, is hard.

Naturally I am a different person than I was at 18, at 28, 38, 48 and now almost 51.  I must admit that wearing out the ears and patience of my good friends helped.  My mom used to tell me "don't worry about things you have no control over".  It's so true.  It's hard, but its true.  I have this quest to control things, I'll be the first to admit it and its been hard to learn that in life, most things I don't have control over.  What happens, happens sometimes.

There are times that I think about how other people are dealing with life and then I realize that it doesn't really matter, its how I deal with my life that counts.  I can only control my own happiness.  I care about others but people will heal at the rate they are willing to heal.  Same with me.  I liked being in that place for a long time.  It was safe to dwell on the past, what I knew and so scary to start over. 

I went to a "few" counselors at the beginning.  One of them even tried "deep hypnotic therapy" which I'm not sure really worked any better than the time I was hypnotized at Ricochet's in 1980"s on stage under the influence of alcohol.  Anyway I like to tell this story because its so true.  Anyway, as the therapist is putting me "under" she asked me to remember my childhood and if I felt abandoned and such and I don't know, I like snapped out of it and just talked normal, not like the exorcist or anything.  I was like, "I was always unsupervised because my parents were exhausted by the time I came along and they just let me do".  Then she asked me, "Was there anything that you think was a moment in your life that you felt cheated, betrayed and not validated"? (Now I'm assuming that she thinks I'm really under her trance) and I was honest and said, "I had an awesome childhood and the only thing I can think of that messed me up psychologically was the fact that I wasn't on the Homecoming Court"!  She stops and is speechless.  I start laughing and she says, "really"?  I was like yes, really.  I laughed because I was serious and truthful but she had no idea if I was really joking or serious.  Anyway, I didn't go back to her and I did find a great therapist that I literally loved to talk to and I keep thinking about going back because it feels so good to talk to a counselor and let them validate your fears and feelings.

Thank God, I have the gift of humor, because I think that it has saved me many times from the dark side of myself,

The therapist I love to talk to told me wonderful things that I felt were true and he reminded me of things that my mother used to tell me.  One thing he did tell me was, "You have wonderful childlike qualities and a wonderful insight about yourself and this is so enticing to people.  It makes them want to know you more, you shouldn't ever have trouble making friends and finding true love again".   You know this is true for everyone, we all have something special inside of us and we lose track of that when we are sad, we forget and just have to be reminded by others sometimes.

Now he did fuss at my decisions and actions and guided me to making better choices about coping with change.

okay, getting sleepy.,.,..to be continued.  As you can see, all of my stories never end. 

This is an oak tree at my mom's

Naturally the Generation X pointed out the resemblance to us oldies last year.

family

Aunt ZaZay, Mom Wick, Aunt Rose and Taunt Belle
My maternal great aunts and second from left is my maternal grandmother

My niece, Desiree

Lyle and Natalie cutting up outside.

My mom died this year.....

I didn't feel much while she was dying actually, my close friends kept asking me if I was okay and I was kind of embarrassed that I didn't feel much of anything at the time of her death.  We had at least a year to really watch her deteriorate physically and that in itself was so saddening that I guess death was a welcome outcome to her misery/boredom/depression.

Even though you read this saying, everyone feels this way about their mom, well I'm sure most of you reading this may but I work with many people who don't have a nurturing mother and I have met some many adults in my lifetime that didn't either that I don't glorify my mom any more than she deserves I promise.  When I say she was perfect to me, I am basing it on my experiences with her through my lifetime.  She was perfect to me maybe because she was mellowed out, less stressed in her late 40's and 50's to where we really had a blast together.

I often asked my mom, "why in the hell am I in such a depressing job"?   She would never even hesitate and start by validating my feelings and instantly saying a positive/complimentary statement of encouragement.  She liked to say things like, "I know Laurie, but who else in this family could do what you do"? 

I talked to her like my soul-confidant.  She had such grace and wisdom about life.  (Listen I know she may have been slightly controlling and pushy to people in public) but she was very poised, loving and nurturing at home when she needed to be.  She called me the peace maker and I always had to live up to it. 

Of all my lessons I've learned from her, family, was her most important of them all.  She loved her family so much and so did daddy.  I never met two people so in love and two people so proud of their children, no matter what we did to shake up their lives.
I have taken my gifts from my parents and some of my faults from my older siblings, no doubt.  My work ethic is from my parents.  Good Lawd, I still don't rest to this day.

When I see a squirrel, I think of mama because towards the end, she enjoyed watching this squirrel run on the wires on front of her house.  When I see a Red Cardinal, I think of daddy, I guess because of his love of animals.  There is a Red Cardinal that comes near my window at work all the time.  I've been seeing lots of squirrels too.  I hope they are interceding for me and I hope to God they can't see everything that I'm doing.

To be continued..............I could write a book about growing up in Anna Mae's house........

Another year and the same complaints

Now I reading my blog and see that in July last year I was stressed, aggravated with work, still overweight, tired, hated people, crying alot, hated men and was about to turn 50.....well

DITTO FRECKING DITTO

I'm about to turn 51 at the end of this month and not a damn thing changed in one year.

 I probably gained a few more lbs. darn it.

Roman

Natalie, my second born

Andrea, my first born

Jr High 1975

Back row: Melanie Breaux, Simone Mestayer, Jana Champagne, Janelle Bonin
Front row: Merrill Bernard, Laurene Dugas, Tammy Broussard

My son, Lyle, 3rd from left. Crescent City Crossfit

My sister, Wanda

My mom died 2-17-12

My grandson, Atticus 17 mos.

My sister, Myrt

My son, Lyle.

Roman July 2012, My first Grandson